Freakin' with the Enemy Ch. 03byStardog Champion©
Leaving the Loughlin office that afternoon, Darlene Craft felt as if she'd just had an out of body experience. If it wasn't for the taste of Denny's lust still fresh on her palate, she may have been able to convince herself it all was an all too vivid daydream as she walked to her car.
Avoiding anymore eye contact than she had to as she made her way through the parking lot, praying she wouldn't give away any telltale signs of what had just happened, Darlene wondered what those glares might be like if Denny leaked the secret.
"It would spread to the church too with its affiliation here..then through the neighborhood too," Darlene thought with dread, only now taking into account the powder keg she was truly toying with.
Stepping into her car, Darlene had to stifle an audible gasp when she stretched her thighs apart.
"Oh God, I'm out of shape," she cringed, knowing that part of her body had gone quite awhile without that much stimulation.
Darlene couldn't avoid feeling the level of wetness remaining down their either.
"He did all that with his bare hand..without even truly touching you,' she reminded herself as she reached for the ignition.
Impulsively lowering her right hand down to her crotch while she warmed the engine, Darlene jumped a little in the seat when she felt how swollen and sensitive she still was down there. Despite all the horrors potentially awaiting her if the shit did hit the fan, the one thing she knew was that she had to see Denny again, if for no other reason she had to get him the $1,000 he needed to take care of the "Angie situation".
Never one to let her conscience complicate things, Darlene kept her hand buried between her thighs during the entire trip home (thank God she decided to get tinted windows with her current BMW), for the first time of her life bringing herself off to a series of small orgasms behind the wheel as she made her way across town.
Fixing dinner that night as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened just hours earlier, Darlene made small talk about the trivialities of the day with her Husband and Daughters at the table. She even initiated sex with Curt later that evening, a supreme rarity, one that ended quite well for both parties even though her Husband wasn't anywhere to be found behind her curtain of her closed eyelids.
Darlene took the thousand dollars to pay Denny out of her own personal little slush fund, the one she kept in case either something went squirrely with her marriage, or if she came across anything she wanted that didn't exactly fit into the family's finances. Considering the size of the war chest she'd built up over the years, the small price she was paying Denny to do such a giant deed seemed like a bargain.
Tucking the money into her purse the next day she was scheduled to work at Loughlin, Darlene walked through the front doors with the same apprehension a high school girl might the Monday after banging half the football team over the weekend.
Meeting eyes, first with the secretary in the office and then with the house's director, there wasn't a hint of anything out of the ordinary in their smiles or gazes. The next hurdle, the one Darlene considered the greatest, was any interaction she had with the Loughlin's tenants. Thankfully that had gone smoothly as well. Even though Gary, and some of the more friendly inhabitants, flirted openly with her, there was no hint they knew anything had happened between her and Denny. It was a very positive sign that at least she could trust him with a secret.
Finally able to steal away with Denny to a secluded back room of the house later that day, Darlene gave him the envelope with the cash.
"I should know something by the end of the week?" Darlene asked with nervous impatience.
"Or two at the most," Denny assured, taking the business envelope and shoving it into his shirt.
"He didn't even say anything about the other day," Darlene rolled her tongue sourly through her mouth, seeing the twinkle of carnal knowledge in Denny's emotionless eyes but hating him for not so much as addressing their interlude.
An overwhelming urge to sink to her knees in that dark, dusty room to do exactly what she did to Denny the last time they were together filled Darlene, but she caught herself before giving him the satisfaction of seeing just how much he'd affected her.
"Keep me up to date..OK," was all she could say before turning around to leave separately from him.
"No problem," he replied, sensing (with a great deal of arrogant pride) the confused and lustful want brimming from the married woman's pores.
Having agreed to Darlene's onerous task, Denny was left to piece together how to actually pull it off. Taking the money from her pretty much sealed the endeavor's fate, whatever that fate wound up being.
Knowing he could slip away from Loughlin, and his P.O., for a couple of days under the ruse of going out of town on a job search, Denny also knew of a safe and well heeled avenue to purchase the 'supplies' he needed for his trip to Boulder. The only thing left to do was figuring out what to do with all of it once he got there.
The entire time he was formulating his plan, Denny kept going back to the pictures Darlene had shown him of the girl in question. Considering the hatred and deep seeded contempt in Darlene's voice while discussing the girl, there must have been some sort of ax to grind against her that dated back long before she caught Angie fooling around with her Husband.
Denny did his best to put all those things out of his mind because it was much easier to do something horrible to someone if you didn't humanize them. The sliver of conscience he had left however continued to badger him, almost like a hangnail throbbing each time used that finger. Keeping that mental image of Angie Burton's smiling face fresh in his brain caused something else to throb with possibility as well, and it was much more substantial than a hangnail.
Angie's college address had been easy to find. Once he found the place, it simply became a matter of patience. Finding a secluded spot to sit and wait in the apartment complex's sprawling lot, the closer it got to dusk on the early October afternoon, the more Denny wished he'd brought a coat.
Seeing Angie pull up a little after four in the same sporty, midnight blue Jetta Darlene had described, Denny recognized her immediately even though she was dressed in sweats and flip-flops instead of the glamorous, pageant garb she wore in the pictures he'd seen on the internet. The one thing he immediately noticed as she strolled, completely oblivious to his presence, was the air and aura of a girl who stood out from the pack no matter what she was wearing.
Watching Angie disappear up the steps and into her second floor apartment, Denny tapped the duffel bag resting on the passenger seat.
"We could do this right now..might be safer after dark..but we could do it as soon as the sun goes down, make the phone call and head back home," the calculating criminal inside his head offered.
Still toying with the exact moment to lay his trap with the product he'd purchased the night before, Denny watched as two girls pulled into the parking lot a few minutes later. His plan to leave Boulder quickly changed when he watched the two very attractive young ladies exit their car and head up to the steps before disappearing into Angie's room as well.
Shifting his weight in the seat, Denny realized it might be a long night.
If Denny had still been on the fence about how to proceed for the evening, his decision to stick around Boulder was cemented, at least for a few more hours, when he saw those three girls emerge from the apartment dressed in their freakiest nightclub ware. Stuffing the payload he'd brought beneath the passenger seat, Denny started the pick-up he'd borrowed from a cousin and followed Angie and her friends out of the parking lot, towards the University's party bar strip.
Finding an out of the way space in the parking garage facing the first club the girls made their way into, Denny spent a little over an hour mulling the scenery and his options, keeping an ever present eye out for a cop or security guard that might come snooping around to see why a guy was just sitting behind the wheel of a parked car. Perking up in his seat when he saw the girls finally exit the bar, Denny raised his hand to the ignition as a group of college frat types followed Angie and her friends out. Seeing the horde disappear into the establishment next door, Denny lowered his hand back down to his lap and continued to wait.
Sensing the girl's agenda most likely entailed going from one bar to another until either closing time, or something more fun came along, Denny knew they'd be out of his vantage point if and when they moved on from the place they'd just went in to. Casting a somewhat worrisome glance over to the package beneath the seat beside him, Denny sighed as he reached for the keys before hopping out the truck.
Having made the prophetic decision to at least dress like he planned on blending in with a college crowd, even at 29 with his baseball cap on backwards, the years worth of toll showed clearly on Denny Pinson's scruffy face.
"Don't worry..its dark in there and most everyone will be way too drunk and self absorbed to notice..besides..you wont need to be in there for long," he told himself as he walked past Angie's parked Jetta.
"Bet she doesn't bother to even lock her doors," Denny thought merrily.
The first thing to cross Denny's mind when he walked inside was he could probably triple the value of the stuff he'd stashed back in his truck if he sold it instead of using it for what he'd originally purchased it for. Almost turning to go do just that, he stopped cold in his tracks when he spotted Angie and her friends at the bar, surrounded by an impressive flock of guys.
There was certainly enough other scenery to admire in the joint as the bone-jarring bass thud of music he was about a generation too old to appreciate pounded in his ears. Keeping his eyes on the prize, as it was, Denny slowly meandered through the crowd until he'd set up camp and ordered a beer less than 10 feet from where Angie was holding court, much the same way a queen bee would inside her hive.
Sitting there long enough for the beers to take effect, Denny tried, and for the most part succeeded in blending in with the younger crowd. The fact that Angie, along with a handful of other girls, periodically made their way up to the dance floor and ruthlessly shook what their Mommas had given them allowed a wallflower like Denny to blend seamlessly into the background.
As much as Momma Burton may have loved and prized her young Daughter, even she would have been mortified at the contortions and joviality Angie showed as she frolicked with the girls and boys under the strobe lights on the sweat soaked dance floor. Between the quick shots of Angie's thong as she grinded her mini-skirt clad rear end against the mass of humanity surrounding her, Denny had graduated from beer to tequila shots.
Getting a clear sense that there probably wasn't a guy in the room worthy of taking Miss Burton home that night no matter how drunk she got, Denny steadily watched the boys slide away as the evening wore on in pursuit of some easier prey. The more the tequila started talking, the more he thought about trying to corral one of the remaining inebriated college hotties himself. Able to listen to snippets of Angie's conversation as the crowd surrounding her gradually thinned out, his ears perked up when he heard her tell someone she couldn't stay until closing time because she had a test the following morning before then having to go to her volunteer job helping coach one of the local middle school's volleyball team.
His drunken eyes shimmering like twin rubies upon hearing that new information, Denny prepared to pay his tab and drag himself back to his pick-up before he was too far gone to drive. Once again however, fate and testosterone-fueled opportunity intervened.
There had easily been a dozen or more guys smoothing up to Angie over the course of the evening, trying in vain to woo her away all for themselves, but she'd summarily dispatched most of them with a friendly 'thanks but no thanks' smile, even a few times adding a peck on the cheek.
Most of the guys took the hint and moved on to more manageable goals, but there were a few die-hards who kept coming back, either in hopes that they suddenly got better looking over the course of a half hour, or Angie got drunk enough that she didn't care. Neither obviously happened.
Men's ability to handle rejection come in about as many colors as the deluxe sized boxes of Crayola crayons. Some take it with a grain of salt after giving it the old college try and move on. Other take it a little more personal but swallow their pride long enough to handle it with dignity in hopes that maybe one day down the road the outcome might be different. Then there the guys who viscerally can't handle having anyone tell them, 'no', especially in front of a bunch of their buddies.
In a group of drunken, young men that large, with a prize as desirable as Angie on the line, nature dictated there had to be at least one guy who fell into that latter category. Sadly for him that evening, his face found a brief but lasting home at the end of Denny Pinson's fist.
The fact that Angie hadn't wheeled around and cold-cocked the tall and lanky blonde haired guy who was making his 4th or 5th attempt to pick her up spoke to either some prior relationship with him, or an ungodly amount of poise and patience she'd learned on the pageant circuit. Denny sensed the guy could pretty much have the pick of the litter of 90% of the girls in the room, but for whatever reason he had his tunnel vision trained straight on Little Miss Teen Beauty Queen.
Sneaking the occasional peek over his shoulder to gauge the ever changing expression on Angie's reddening face, what had started out as mild annoyance had bubbled up to frustration, and was now bordering on outright anger.
It was a shame none of the other guys with blondie had the balls to step up and interject himself into the slowly deteriorating situation, but it was clear he was the alpha dog of the group and none of them really needed the hassle. Denny, on the other hand, had been in places with real alpha dogs, ones that would make any of the spoiled, rich brats roaming that college bar want to tuck tail and run long before the first word was spoken.
It was shame really. Considering the state of things, if one of those other guys would step up to intervene, he would surely score some brownie points with Angie.
Taking one last shot of tequila as things devolved beside him, Denny felt the vocal vibration of Angie's final 'no and get the Hell away from me' before everything turned to slow motion.
While it wasn't exactly a dissociative, fugue state Denny drifted into during those moments of unplanned action, it was enough of a departure from the tethers of rational thought allowing his unbridaled instincts to take over. Before the screech of Angie's voice or the image of her spinning around to smack the guy's hand off her shoulder even registered in Denny's brain, he'd already leapt from his barstool and took two ghostly quick steps to his left.
Angie's palm had just collided with the guy's clenched hand at the exact same moment Denny's balled up fist landed square on top of blondie's suddenly flattened nose.
"Flush," the former convict congratulated himself before he'd even finished his follow-thru.
Like a bunch of gnats flying to a just switched on street lamp, all the bouncers in the bar that had shown no interest in the ordeal Angie was dealing with from blondie's unwanted advances suddenly swarmed over to the spot where the young student was sprawled at the foot of the bar, blood spurting up from his shattered nose like a certain oil well in the Gulf.
Having been in that position several times after delivering a swift and decisive blow, Denny could feel the powers that be cautiously closing in around him. Instead of the guards he dealt with in jail however, Denny had to keep from laughing out loud as the jobronies with 'security' written across the chest of their size too small black tee-shirts descended on the scene.
Denny looked just like a pitcher who'd delivered another third strike as he stood up over his fallen adversary. Whether it was the prison tattoos that were clearly visible on his still flexing forearm, or the animalistic gleam in his heartless eyes, or if the was simple fact that everyone in the room knew blondie had it coming, but not a single person made a move towards Denny as he turned and casually made his way to the spot where he'd just been drinking.
The glut of bodies gawking in the room had seemingly parted like the Red Sea allowing Denny free access to leave if he was so inclined.
Reaching into his pocket and peeling off a $50 bill to take care of his tab for the night, Denny also grabbed the bar rag sitting there and tossed it to one of blondie's buddies to help with the berry red flow gushing from his schnowse.
Casting a knowing gaze in Angie's direction, the look of shock and awe was still etched like glittery clay across the young girl's vacant face. The longer he looked he thought he could also see a bit of appreciation through her drunken disbelief, but just before Denny turned broke his stare, he couldn't help but catch the faintest shimmer from something buried deep in the pit of Angela Burton's Freudian Id.
Meeting a couple of quick and knowing glances with a handful of the still watchful bouncers, Denny could tell he wasn't going to get any trouble from them as the crowd gradually scattered and returned to their night of drinking and dancing.
"Gotta take a piss before I leave," Denny ultimately decided.
Keeping his stoic, stone faced glare as he walked past several patrons who comically stepped back after witnessing what he'd done to the annoying prick at the bar a few minutes earlier, Denny disappeared into the club's restroom.
Calling the men's room 'confined' would be kind. There were two urinals, a toilet and a sink all crowded into the space of a modest walk-in closet, and from Denny's best estimate, only half of the light bulbs in there still worked. Given the accommodations he'd spent the better part of his 20s residing however, he didn't give the Spartan environment a second thought.
He heard the door open behind him once in mid piss just a few seconds after he'd taken a spot at the urinal on the far right. There was a faint but perceptible gulp, then the sound of the person behind him quickly shuffling back out, apparently not wanting to share the bathroom once he saw who was already in there.
Finishing up, Denny was about to reach for the flush handle when the creak of the door opening again roused his attention. The numbing thud of the music from outside seeping into the bathroom, this time the person who'd walked in allowed the door to close while they continued to stand there.
Stuffing his cock back inside his pants after casually shaking the last few drops off, a gnawing sense that one of the guys from outside had made the very poor decision to try and come into the restroom to gain some sort of retribution for their fallen friend.
"This really aint a good idea," Denny said without turning around as zipped his jeans back up.
"Why not?" came the reply from behind, in the distinctive tone a woman.
Denny knew who it was before he even bothered to turn around. Having to stop himself from saying "Hello Angie", and giving away the fact that he already knew who she was, he simply spun to his left and gave the girl a friendly smile.